


Have This

by dredshirtroberts



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Because they're drinking, Desk, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Cullen Rutherford/The Iron Bull, Minor Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, Minor Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Minor Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Storytelling, Wine, minor Cassandra Pentaghast/Cullen Rutherford, questionable relationship advice, they're both super into it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dredshirtroberts/pseuds/dredshirtroberts
Summary: “I...Know this is likely to be...um...Hang on. I…” Cullen cleared his throat and changed his stance, shifting his shoulders back and straightening up as his feet slid to shoulder width apart, “You would do me a great honor if you would accompany me to…” He rocked his head back with a groan of frustration and a soft curse.“No no, keep going. You almost had a full sentence that time!”Cullen wants to ask Solas a very important question - he gets a bit more than he bargained for, but no one's gonna hear him complaining about it.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Solas, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is Not the L&E update anyone was looking for but here we are anyway!
> 
> This _is_ a part of the L&E universe set somewhere before Adamant but after arriving at Skyhold. Which I haven't gotten around to actually writing yet so some of the details mentioned as vaguely as possible here might change. It happens. 
> 
> Smut is in chapter 2. As with all my writing, there's a fuckton of navel-gazing involved here and some of my own personal thoughts and headcanons about the characters are shoved in here as well. LMK if you find anything that needs to be tagged that I didn't already put up there! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This was not beta'd really, and I definitely didn't even look over it a second time for mistakes so like...if you find any glaring grammatical or spelling errors lmk but otherwise I was pretty happy with it.

“I...Know this is likely to be...um...Hang on. I…” Cullen cleared his throat and changed his stance, shifting his shoulders back and straightening up as his feet slid to shoulder width apart, “You would do me a great honor if you would accompany me to…” He rocked his head back with a groan of frustration and a soft curse.

“No no, keep going. You almost had a full sentence that time!” Dorian hummed from his spot on a chair in the corner of Cullen’s room, paging through a book disinterestedly. Ashael sat at his feet shaking with silent laughter as she watched the commander of the Inquisition’s forces struggle to speak to his reflection.

“You is nearly there, Cullen. You can do it. It would not be so difficult in real life because you will not have the audience!” She attempted to reassure him and he pulled a face, scrunching his nose and frowning deeply as he turned back to the mirror he used to shave in.

“Your votes of confidence are  _ so _ reassuring,” He grumbled and Dorian waved a hand flippantly.

“Yes, darling, we know. Try again. We’re definitely paying attention.” Ashael elbowed Dorian’s knee and he huffed quietly, “Fine, fine. You owe me wine, Inquisitor.”

“Anything for my favorite ma’lathelan lath’in,” She batted her eyes at him and he sighed, running his hand through her hair. It was loose and hung in limp waves around her shoulders. Her bare toes wriggled in delight as she shifted back to settle against the chair properly.

“Alright, Cullen. Try again. Remember, the worst response you will get is a no.”

“Or lit on fire.” Cullen muttered and Ashael gasped.

“Wouldn’t  _ dare _ _,”_ She asserted, her customary lack of pronouns only not confusing because of the context.

“It’s always a possibility,” Cullen reminded her, but with a small smile on the unscarred side of his mouth - the side they could clearly see from the way he was standing. “Alright...again.”

He readjusted his stance. It was just  _ talking _ he could do  _ talking .  _

Cullen inhaled, exhaled, opened his mouth, closed it, inhaled again and then sighed, slumping forward, his hands on the desk in front of him, “I can’t do it.”

“Maker preserve me, man. You  _ can _ and you  _ will _ so help me.” Dorian exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and disrupting Ashael who gave a squawk of protest before she hoisted herself up into the chair Dorian had exited. There was a nearly silent battle between them of offended grunting and humming sounds with no words exchanged that Cullen only followed because he was used to it by now. Their non-verbal argument completed, Dorian returned to the matter at hand, “Perhaps it is staring at your own face that is causing the problem. Not that I see how, as it is  _ quite _ the attractive visage.” Cullen felt his face heat up and Dorian grinned wide under his moustache.

“Fine, fine. What do you propose?” Cullen held his hands up in defeat, as he turned from the desk.

“I shall play the part of your potential paramour, and you can practice on me!” Dorian waved his hands in a flourish, sending tiny sparkling wisps to glittering around him. Ashael giggled in delight and Cullen managed to fight the urge to flinch back at the casual use of magic. It was  _ very _ impressive but it still caught him off guard and all the conditioning he’d gone through to distrust the use of magic in general wouldn’t go so quickly. But he  _ was _ trying.

“I don’t know that’s going to be very effective,” Cullen teased.

“I know, I’m not nearly so  _ dashing _ as our dour subject, but you’ll just have to pretend I’m as stern and solemn as he is while you practice.” Dorian huffed, the hint of a smile chasing his face belying his sharp words, “Now, go on. Give it a try.”

“He has a point, Cullen,” Ashael said from her new perch on Dorian’s chair.

“See? If you won’t listen to me, listen to our intrepid leader. She knows best - she has, after all, been the most successful at this out of the rest of us.”

“I didn’t know anyone else was interested,” Cullen shot back raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Dorian sputtered, not having anticipated having it turned back on him, “I am  _ not _ _._ As...alluring as you both seem to think he is, I am in no way interested in sour-faced, grumpy, old-”

“Hey,” Ashael’s voice was just this side of warning.

“You know I’m right, dearheart.”   


“Yeah, but you don’t have to be mean about it.”

“Fine, fine. I’m not interested in him so if you will, can we  _ please _ get this charade over with so I may go back to my  _ very _ interesting book?”

Cullen sighed and relented in his teasing as Ashael settled back into the chair, lounging comfortably, “Fine.”

He once again straightened his shoulders and rolled his head on his neck, as though he were heading into the sparring ring and not...pretending Dorian was Solas to ask if he’d want to...Cullen wasn’t even sure  _ what _ exactly he wanted. To allow Cullen to court him? He was pretty sure the elven man wouldn’t agree to an arrangement like the one Cullen had with Bull or Dorian - or even the one he had with Ashael or Cassandra. But...he wanted * _ more _ * than the casual acquaintance and burgeoning friendship that was growing as they settled further into Skyhold.

“Any day now, Commander,” Dorian said, cheekily.

“I don’t think he’d say that,” Cullen responded automatically, and Dorian looked affronted.

“I’m not in character yet! I’m waiting for you to begin your cue!”

“That’s not how acting works, Dorian,” Ashael piped up, earning a glare that she responded to with a bright grin, “Maybe he can’t start because you’re not acting like Solas properly.”

“Ugh,  _ fine _ _,_ I suppose I could  _ try _ to get into character first.” Dorian stretched briefly and then something about his entire...everything changed. Suddenly before Cullen was someone who had the exact air and bearing as…

“Solas, I was wondering if we might have a word?” He said, almost instinctively - as he would if he needed to discuss Inquisition matters with the elf.

Aside from the hair, the skin tone, the ears, and literally everything about Dorian’s appearance that belied his being himself, the response was almost  _ exactly _ what Cullen would have expected had it been Solas standing in front of him instead, “Of course, Commander. What might I assist you with?”

“I have a question - personal matters, not...not Inquisition business.” He explained. Dorian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his entire demeanor saying wordlessly - as Solas’ would - that Cullen should continue, “I have been...most interested in your stories and the experiences you have had and would like to...request that you join me for drinks some time. Perhaps alone so that I might hear more of your tales?”

Dorian’s lips quirked up in a small smirk - and Cullen couldn’t actually tell if he was still in character or not as the expression was one shared by both mages completely unrelated to one another. He absently wondered if Madame Vivienne also made a similar expression when she was amused, but he’d never bothered to be in her presence that long - she was  _ terrifying . _

“I would not have pegged the former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall to be so interested in the tales of a mage. But if you are earnest, perhaps that would be a...reasonable diversion from the usual activities.”

Cullen released the breath he’d been holding and Dorian finally broke character to smile widely.

“See? You  _ can _ do it, darling. That was perfect! Now you just have to do it with the man in question.” Dorian exclaimed, clapping his hands together briefly. He swayed forward his hands reaching out towards Cullen’s shoulders and Cullen might not have caught the movement if he hadn’t been watching, wasn’t so used to Dorian’s flamboyant nature, but the mage pulled back at the last second, his lips quirking up in to a much smaller, slightly shyer smirk. “As it is, I think I’m quite done for the day. Ashael, darling, would you accompany me to the cellar to acquire that wine you so gratefully agreed to owe me?”

Cullen clenched his fist at his side, the moment to pull Dorian back into him for a hug, possibly even a kiss (maybe on the cheek - if he was lucky, on the lips) slipping past him as the mage waltzed up to Ashael and pulled her from the chair, linking their arms together. Dorian cast another sidelong glance at Cullen as Ashael waved with a grin, “You’ll do great, Cullen! We believe in you!” before they both exited his room, their steps echoing in the tower as they went down the ladder, across the office and then out the door to the battlements - left door if you were facing away from the desk, based on the sound. It  _ was _ the quickest way to get to the cellar without going through the rotunda, after all.

When the door to the battlements closed behind the pair Cullen kicked absently at the small desk in his bedroom and cursed. He _knew_ how hard it was for Dorian to initiate any kind of physical affection in company - even trusted company like Ashael. He should have…

He cursed again and ran his fingers through his hair. Well, no matter now. The opportunity - like so many others in Cullen’s life - had once again passed him by. Ashael might owe Dorian a drink, but Cullen owed him quite a bit more than that.

But...practicing hadn’t been the worst thing they’d ever done, and it  _ had _ gone well. Dorian could have rejected him outright just to make sure he knew what that looked like but… He hadn’t. He’d let Cullen see how Dorian thought Solas would _actually_ react to being asked to accompany Cullen for drinks, and...Dorian thought it would go well. Ashael hadn’t offered any commentary or criticism of the acting, either, which meant that she also believed it to be an accurate representation of how she thought this would go. And of the denizens of Skyhold, she seemed to have the most knowledge of the elvhen mage out of anyone - aside perhaps Sahrena. 

They always seemed weirdly knowledgeable about...everyone, really. Cullen was apt to blame this on Ashael being under Leliana’s wing, as it were, and then sharing the information with Sahrena.

He shook his head, he was distracting himself. He needed to go down to the rotunda and find Solas and ask him as soon as possible, or it would be too late in the day and the man might have other plans and Cullen...didn’t really want to schedule this for a different night if he didn’t have to. The anxiety would kill him, he was pretty sure.

He slid down the ladder, bypassing the slightly safer method of taking each rung for the speed allowed by the fact that he was wearing his gloves still, though the rest of his armor was hung on the rack in his bedroom. (Ashael’s idea, don’t approach the apostate mage with the appearance of a Templar, that might be off-putting. Dorian had agreed and now here he was in nought but his shirtsleeves and doublet, breeches and boots and feeling more naked than the day he was born). Long strides and quick steps brought him swiftly through his office, onto the bridge between his tower and the rotunda, and then through the door to the inside of the keep proper.

He blinked as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, the bright light of midday from outside causing his vision to be near black as the windowless room was lit by only tapers in stands and braziers hanging from above.

“Commander?” The lightly accented question of a word came from deeper in the rotunda and as Cullen’s vision cleared he saw Solas standing on the ladder to his scaffold, staring at him with a crease between his brows. Cullen’s hand twitched at his side with the urge to smooth the line on the other man’s forehead.

“Ah, Solas. Just the man I was looking for.” He began, clearing his throat as his voice came out a little more strained than he’d planned for, “I was hoping I might ask you a question.”

Solas hopped off of the ladder, landing near-silently on his leather-wrapped feet, his bare toes and heels padding gently across the flagstones as they met near the desk in the center of the circular room, “Yes?”

“I…” Oh no. Oh no, what was Cullen supposed to say next? What was his _l_ _ ine _ _?_ “I was…”

Solas’ frown of confusion deepend, “Commander?”

“Please, just...you can just call me Cullen,” He offered with a small smile, hoping it looked mostly natural. His palms were sweating inside his gloves and maybe he _should_ have taken those off as well - but he needed _some_ sort of armor. He already felt underdressed and exposed. Had his hands been bare as well? Maker forbid!

“Alright,” Solas’ mouth twitched upwards at the corners, “Cullen, then. What seems to be the issue?”

“I…” He cleared his throat again. This had been so much easier in front of Dorian -  _ void _ but it had been easier in front of his  _ mirror _ _!_

Maybe...Maybe if he pretended he was just pretending again? What was it Dorian had said? The worst he could respond with was “no.” Cullen could handle a “no.” He’d handled lots of “no”s before. One more wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

“I was wondering if you...That is to say I am intrigued by the stories you tell of your experiences - both magical and mundane. I would be honored if you would tell me more of them, sometime? Perhaps...perhaps over drinks?” That sounded like normal words normal people would say. For sure. 

Oh, Mia would have had a  _ field day _ with his fumbling. It was bad enough Dorian and Ashael knew he was struggling so much. Oh _no,_ where was Sera? Was Sera around? He fought the sudden instinct to double check for the wild imp of a woman as he realized  _ he was in the Rotunda and Leliana was probably listening to everything . _

Sudden panic gripped him and it was only years of training and practice at schooling his features that kept him from blanching or running out of the room.  _ The worst thing he can say is no, the worst thing he can say is no, the worst thing he can say is no. _ He waited stoically for Solas’ response.

That quirk of the lips - okay so maybe it was a  _ little _ different on Solas’ actual face than the expression Dorian had given but it was close enough that his heart settled down a little. Not a lot, as that look generally  _ raised _ his heart-rate but it wasn’t panic anymore and that was at least a little preferable, “You are interested in the stories of an apostate mage, Commander?”

“Not quite - I’m interested in the stories of a brilliant mind who knows much of the world and has had experiences I can literally only dream of,” Cullen quirked a smile, the scarring on the right side of his mouth hindering the motion so it looked a little crooked but he’d been assured previously that it was dashing rather than awkward and he hoped it was working now, “And I think I asked you to call me ‘Cullen,’ not ‘Commander.’”

Solas let out a startled bark of laughter. “Indeed, you did,” he said, pausing for a moment, before slowly saying, “Cullen.”

And that was  _ entirely _ unfair and also rude, Cullen thought to himself as his face flushed again and he swallowed around the nervous laughter that threatened to bubble out of his chest, “So? What say you, Solas? A few drinks and tales? Perhaps tonight, in my office?”

“I think I would be...amenable to that. Would anyone be joining us?” Solas’ face went from relaxed and almost playful to impassive in an instant and Cullen reeled at the change, but he didn’t let it stop him - he’d gotten this far.

“I was hoping it would just...be the two of us?” He let a note of his anxiety color his voice as his volume dropped - no one could overhear this if he spoke softer. He chewed on the inside of his upper lip briefly, the tension in his chest causing his breathing to feel tight once more. Had it been this bad when he’d asked Ashael to allow him to court her? He couldn’t remember. Admittedly he was also pretty sure the whole ordeal between himself and Ashael (and Dorian, and Cassandra) had been orchestrated by Bull, and  _ he’d _ been the one to initiate the arrangement between himself and Cullen so maybe this wasn’t in any way comparable.

At Cullen’s question Solas inhaled sharply and nodded once, “I see.”

And that was not an answer Cullen had anticipated. It wasn’t really an answer at all. In fact, it was probably  _ worse _ than an outright “No” would have been.  _ Dorian was wrong. _

“I understand if you are unable to join me on such short notice,” Cullen spoke quickly, “Or at all. I simply wished to extend the offer. Perhaps another time,” He swallowed thick around the dryness of his throat, the tight feeling from his chest creeping up to cause his airway to feel blocked, like drowning - like being pressed under feet and feet of snow, suddenly he knew what Ashael had felt both times her life had been in peril and he hadn’t been able to _do_ anything about it and he desperately needed out of the room. He bowed with a smile he hoped was friendly enough, “If you find yourself in need of company for a drink, my door is always open.” He said as a final parting - if he left it as a friendly invitation, perhaps he could save face.

And then, like the coward he was in Kinloch, in Kirkwall, in Haven, he moved past Solas, exiting into the bustling hall of Skyhold and towards the war room where maybe he could have a moment’s peace to panic on his own.

* * *

Solas blinked after the commander’s hasty retreat. He hadn’t answered the man and all of the sudden he’d left?

“Ah...A shame, he’d been doing so well!” Dorian sighed from where he was leaning over the bannister from the library. 

Ashael stood next to him and shoved his shoulder,  “Dorian! Shut up!” 

Solas deliberately did not look up at them. He’d known they’d been there the whole time - Dorian often enjoyed peering over the railing to observe the comings and goings of people in the rotunda as many used it as a shortcut to the Commander’s office.

_ Cullen’s _ office, Solas reminded himself. The man had requested - twice, even - that Solas call him Cullen, not Commander. Which...that was in and of itself notable, let alone the request to join the man for drinks.

Solas hummed softly to himself as he stared at the door towards the hall, and canted his voice upwards to his observers, “I hope that was entertaining for both of you?” Ashael squeaked and ducked down behind the bannister - the railing not doing much to hide her with its open slats, and Dorian cackled a laugh.

“Would have been better had he not run away, but alas. The poor dear spooks so easily, does he not? I imagine he’s run off to find somewhere quiet to lick his wounds.” Dorian responded lightly, tugging on Ashael’s collar to lift her up to standing again.

Solas cocked his head to the side briefly in confusion, not having taken his eyes from the door where the commander -  _ Cullen _ \- had just beat his hasty retreat, “Wounds, Ser Pavus?”

Ashael sighed, shrugging off Dorian’s hand with a huff as she made her way to the stairs, her footsteps deliberately heavy as she plodded down them - she was upset. Solas’ eyebrows raised though his face otherwise remained impassive as he glanced over at her, his ears twitching downward in a show of curiosity.

Ashael’s ears were quirked up and back -  _ very _ agitated then - and she scowled lightly in Solas’ direction, “He’s anxious. He thinks you do not wish to spend time with him and that his offer has been - politely - rebuffed. «Your control over your emotions does you no favors, Solas.»” An odd rebuke from an elf not even in her third decade and so wildly expressive and yet so incredibly enigmatic. Solas huffed a laugh through his nose - more of a harsh breath with a note of amusement, but it counted.

“«And you would lecture me on this, Ashael?»” He responded, “«I feel going in with my emotions on my face all the time would land me in some trouble - especially in delicate situations.»” She flushed as he deliberately poked at the sore spot of her negotiation tactics. He really should stop doing that, but it was...easier to keep them all at arms-length.

“You are an ass.” She said stiffly in Trade, “«I can’t believe you. I thought better of you, Solas. I really did. I really thought...»” She shook her head, “No, I knew better.” She muttered and he crinkled his brow at her, confused. What did she mean? Was she referring to when he had taken her through the Fade? He pursed his lips together in thought as she continued, “No matter. Question is what you will do now that an invitation has been offered. If you will reject him, do so kindly - he does not open up for many and I fear you it will take him longer next time if there is to be a next time.”

“Da’len you speak as though I have said some great offense to him. I merely was attempting to respond to his request and he fled before I could say anything.” He countered and she threw him a glare.

“I’ve  _ told _ you not to refer to me as da’len. I am no child, and you do well to remember that  _ ha’hren _ _.”_ She snarled, low, “And you kept so many of your feelings to yourself he assumed you would reject him. «As I did and do every time we must speak - you try too hard to be impassive and you hurt others, and now I must go see to what you have done to make sure the damage is not irreparable.»” That didn’t seem quite fair at all - certainly the Commander of the Inquisition wouldn’t be so sensitive as to abstain from all future invitations to others for company?

Solas knew much about the man from his network and the news he had gathered from all over before the conclave had been destroyed and his orb had been stolen by that  _ blighted _ darkspawn magister fraud - surely he was made of sterner stuff than to be wounded by a man not even having a chance to respond one way or the other to an invitation?

And he had been about to agree to the arrangement - Solas was not blind, and while he might not feel it appropriate to...encourage relations between himself and others, he was not about to decline the offer of companionship when and where it was offered him. He had not declined Ashael’s request to spend more time together to find out what their compatibility might be like  _ (what he would deny himself, what he would miss when he had to move forward, he would hurt himself again and again to fix this world, and if he had to remind himself why he was doing this by accepting these invitations, he would - a thousand times over he would) _ and he would have accepted the commander’s as well - had the man stuck around to hear his answer.

Solas was unable to respond to Ashael’s last biting remark as she stalked out of the rotunda. Dorian called after her, the open bottle of wine he’d been sipping from dangling from his fingers as he sauntered down the stairs. 

“Dunno what she said to you, mate,” He hummed, his affected cadence of speech dropping slightly with the buzz of inebriation. Solas sniffed a little - a good vintage if his nose was to be believed, possibly best out of a glass but he could not judge a man for foregoing the interim step, having done it too many times himself, “But you have missed out on  _ quite _ a night, I can assure you.”

“And  _ I _ can assure  _ you _ _,_ Ser Pavus, that I have no idea what you’re talking about and also my night and my plans are my own business and I would thank you to keep your nose out of them.” Dorian raised an eyebrow and Solas cursed inwardly - he had been too defensive, the man could see his every thought and secret and he was a _fool._

“Well, I’d say the best way to fix this is to grab one of those lovely bottles of wine from downstairs, and trek it up to the Commander’s office tonight with an apology and some stories fit for Chantry Boy’s ears to tell.” Dorian mused, “But that’s only if you were to listen to a silly Tevinter Altus half a bottle into his wine and far too amused by this whole situation for any  _ real _ advice to be given.” Dorian snorted at his own statement and took another sip from his bottle, “Ta-ta now, darling. Do give my best to your spirits in the Fade.” The man waved as he sauntered out after Ashael, both having left through the same door as the Comman- as Cullen.

Perhaps he would _consider_ the Altus’ words. They were not advice, the man had said so himself. Solas smiled to himself, shaking his head as he turned to the sketches on the desk for the frescos he was currently working on. He shifted one of the pages minutely to see the sketch of a man standing regal and tall, armor and bear-skin cloak making him larger than life. No...it was not advice that Dorian had given Solas at all, it was the only way to smooth this misunderstanding over. And perhaps he had a few stories he could tell on short notice - ones a Commander, a devoted Andrastian, and a soldier could appreciate.

* * *

Cullen wanted to scream. The reports in front of him swam as his eyes refused to focus on the handwriting that had begun to dance on the page and he really could have probably stopped for the night several hours ago but work kept his mind off of _everything_ and now it wasn’t even doing that.

He clenched his jaw and the pain that lanced up his head and down his neck from the action reminded him that he’d been clenching his jaw the whole time, actually. He shoved himself away from his desk roughly, the heavy chair scraping on the wood floors with a loud sound that made his ears ache as the silence that had surrounded him for hours on end broke abruptly with it.

He slumped back in his chair - an easier motion as he had not re-donned his armor after his abysmal failure earlier in the afternoon. Ashael had found him in the war room where he had very much hoped to have been left alone. He had, regrettably, snapped at her for intruding, asserted that he was fine when he very clearly was not, and insisted that she leave - quite rudely if he had to gauge his own reaction.

She had not taken that very well, her eyes welling up with tears, her face turning red and her own sharp voice telling him off for his behavior before she stomped away, probably to find someone far better than he to comfort her.

Perhaps it was for the best. He was a terrible person, after all. The atrocities he’d committed, it didn’t make sense that someone would want to be around him - let alone several someones, let alone _her_ or _him,_ or any of them and he didn’t understand it. He let out a sad, tired, whining groan as he stared up at the wooden planks of his ceiling - the floor to his bedroom above.

The knock at the door startled him far more than it should have and it was a damn good thing he was far enough away from his desk that the jump he did at the sound didn’t knock over the ink well that sat open and poised to topple onto all of the very important documents. He cursed slightly as it tipped anyway when he went to stopper it up to save himself the catastrophe as he called to whomever was on the other side of the door to come in.

He had managed to save the bottle from tipping too far before he’d caught it, his hands trembling a little with the late hour, the many hours previous of cramped writing, and the tremor he held from the lyrium withdrawals. Once the bottle was secured and sealed, he straightened the papers on his desk and shook his hands out quickly - a motion not out of the ordinary for anyone who spent their days writing endlessly, but one he avoided nonetheless.

He glanced up when the door had opened and shut and his guest had not yet introduced themselves or spoken at all. In fact, he hadn’t heard even a single footstep on the boards and he nearly believed he had imagined the entire thing.

When Cullen saw who his guest was, he was fairly convinced he _was_ imagining it. 

“Ah, Solas. I...Is there something the matter? Have the Templars given you trouble?” He asked, falling into the role of Commander easily enough - the only reason he was generally interrupted this late in the evening were emergency matters or Bull coming to pry him away from his desk because he’d missed one of their appointments,  _ again .  _

Solas stood there, not dissimilar from how he had appeared in the rotunda earlier in the day, his unshod feet steady on the ground. He did not shift restlessly ever, Cullen had noticed, aside from back in Haven where snow was all around and the man’s bare feet had been exposed to the elements. Otherwise he stood stock still and stern as a statue and Cullen admired the man’s discipline. The only notable thing that _was_ different was that Solas was holding a bottle of wine in the crook of his arm, and a covered plate in his hand.

“Good evening, Com...Cullen. I hope I have not disturbed you?” His face was as impassive as ever, though the stumble over Cullen’s name was unusual and seemed to bely a discomfort that Cullen was unfamiliar with.

“No, no, I was just...just wrapping up for the evening.” Cullen gestured to the now neatly stacked papers and his stoppered bottle of ink. Stupid, the man had _seen_ him fixing the desk up, he didn’t need to point it out.

“Ah, good. I was hoping to take you up on your invitation from earlier? You left before I could respond and I hope that it has not been rescinded since we parted ways?” If Cullen felt generous with his own feelings, he might have said that Solas seemed uncertain, even hesitant - possibly even nervous. 

Cullen inwardly cursed. Of course the man was apprehensive. Cullen had just propositioned to him and now they were alone in his tower and Cullen was a former Templar but no one knew what that meant other than that he didn’t align with the Order anymore (not that there was an Order, thanks to Ashael - and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about her disbanding them, not really, but maybe it was for the best. He hoped it was for the best) and Solas was an apostate mage. Cullen could have slapped himself for thinking, even for a moment, that Solas was nervous because he was interested in spending time with Cullen.

“I...of course. My door is always open. I assumed you would not...I mean of course you’re welcome to- That is...Would you like to sit down?” He gestured at the chair he kept for meetings with others or when chess matches with Dorian had to be moved indoors due to inclimate weather - or climate weather depending on the season. Solas nodded and set the covered plate of food down on the desk alongside the bottle before drawing the chair up to the other side of the desk.

“I brought you food - the kitchen staff stated you had not requested food be brought up and no one indicated you had eaten,” Solas pressed the plate closer to Cullen’s side of the desk gently with his three middle fingers. Cullen relaxed a little. He  _ had _ forgotten to eat earlier and while he didn’t feel hungry, he knew he ought too - another reason why his hands might be shaking more than usual, now that he thought of it.

“Thank you, Solas. I...thank you,” He said, stumbling over anything more to say as he lifted the cover off of the plate. Meat and cheese and bread covered the surface and he gratefully began to assemble a sandwich of sorts. “Please, help yourself,” He offered as he realized that Solas was still just sitting there and the spirit of his mother travelled from Honnleath as she likely slept through the night to haunt over his shoulder and berate him for being a poor host to his guest.

“No, I am quite alright. I ate earlier - at the usual time,” Solas’ lips quirked into a small smile and Cullen flushed, realizing he was being teased.

“Of course, silly of me,” he muttered before filling his mouth with a bite of food to keep from saying anything more stupid.

“No, you have been busy. I...You mentioned you wished to hear some stories and I thought perhaps I might offer one or two while you ate, so you would not be alone in silence?” At this the elven man also gestured to the bottle of wine, “And failing my being in any way interesting to listen to, I brought wine to distract us both in case it necessary.” Oh, oh now Solas was not only teasing Cullen but also poking fun at _himself._ That...That was reassuring, maybe.

“I doubt we’ll need distraction, I’ve heard some of your tales - you rival Varric with your storytelling skills.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, Commander,” Solas chuckled, clearly not taking offense, “but we shall see. All else fails, wine is wine, and I have it on good authority that this one is particularly fine.” Cullen set down his half finished sandwich - years of mess hall eating and active duty making it so he finished his food quickly, despite what Josephine might have mentioned to him about decorum, etc. - and reached into a drawer set in the desk to pull out two goblets.

“For the wine,” He said as he passed them across the desk, “I keep them in case Dorian and I stay late with the chess games.”

“Hm, I might have to challenge you to a game or two sometime, Commander,” Solas said as he uncorked the bottle and poured them both generous glasses as Cullen tucked back into his sandwich. “Chess is a favorite pastime of mine - one that has been the pastime of generations beyond counting.” He smiled as he set the bottle back down and tapped their goblets together before taking his own in hand and settling back down, “The Iron Bull and I are mid match at the moment, or I would offer to play now - but the board is within our minds only and I risk losing the places of the pieces if I were to play in person.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows and swallowed the final bite of his sandwich, wiping his hands on a napkin cloth before taking a sip of his wine, “Is that so? That’s impressive!” Cullen might have imagined the flush that stole across Solas’ features - it was probably just the warmth of the fire in the brazier, or the orange lighting, or even just the effects of the alcohol already as it was a strong vintage and had burned in a pleasant manner going down. That didn’t change the fact that Cullen  _ did _ think it an impressive feat. He would have to mention something about it to Bull the next time they were together, because that sort of mental prowess could not go uncomplemented.

“I am pleased you think so, Com-Cullen.” A second slip - he was *trying* to use Cullen’s name rather than his title and that made Cullen’s chest flush warm. He was glad there _were_ so many excuses for the blush that rose to his cheeks now, as he cleared his throat and sipped again at his wine with a nod.

“You mentioned you had stories you wanted to share? I apologize I am no longer eating my supper but we could still sit together, if you wished?” He gestured to the now empty plate and the few crumbs speckled upon it. He fought the urge to lick his finger and press it to the plate to get all the leavings - his mother _raised_ him better than that, though much of his polite manners had been lost to the years of service to the Templars. He set the cover back over the plate to remove the temptation and settled into his chair with his goblet of wine, a small, contented smile on his face. If nothing else, he at least had company for a bit before he would head to bed and that was a lot better than glaring down at reports that didn’t want to be read.

Solas nodded and, also settling back, began to speak.

One of the many things that drew Cullen to Solas was the man’s speaking voice. Sure the mage was attractive - most mages were, it seemed, if he thought about it too hard - but more than that he walked with an air of confidence, capability built over years of knowing exactly who he was and what he wanted from life. And above it he spoke as though he were a practiced orator, his voice soft but only so that he did not overwhelm his environment, accentled lightly in a way Cullen had never heard before (though likely a product of where the man came from, a small village to the north, he’d mentioned once). His cadence was rhythmic and poetic, even just in casual conversation, and became more so when he was impassioned and it would take Cullen’s breath away every time he heard it.

As it was now, hearing the man speak only to him, telling stories he thought would interest the Commander - and they did, they most certainly did, but not more than the man himself interested Cullen. His fathomless eyes would gaze off into the distance as he recounted some such detail that he had observed in the Fade, especially if it were something he were telling as though he had  _ been _ there.

It was a weakness of Cullen’s, he supposed, that he was so drawn in by storytellers. Varric held court regularly for those in the inner circle, closest to the Herald and Inquisitor, telling accounts of his time with the Champions - on one notable occasion with the Champions  _ there _ , speaking over him, trying to fix his wild inaccuracies - of the legends of Kirkwall. Those had an air of fantasy though they were based in fact. The stories Solas told held the solemnity of a lecturer in a college speaking to his students, but the fantasy of distant times, of far off places, still lingered, casting a magic of their own that Cullen wasn’t entirely certain was just the effect of the stories.

He laughed, startled, at a detail as Solas smiled warmly, clearly having intended to amuse Cullen with the detail.

“You’re joking. You have to be kidding, there’s no way!” Cullen’s voice was breathless with the laughter as he shook his head, “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh but I am, Commander. Dead serious. For in fact the greatest powers of the time would infight and bluster just the same as the kings and queens of today do - just sometimes with more casualties of wine.” Solas winked before taking a sip, referencing the story he’d been telling of a great Elvhen leader who had made a misstep at a party and had a whole pitcher of wine dumped over his head in retaliation by the hostess. From a time before Arlathan fell, a time Cullen could barely conceive of.

“Astonishing. I truly cannot believe that they were just as petty and ridiculous as we are.” Cullen snorted, “My knowledge of the ancient elves of Arlathan is...limited at best, but they are usually spoken of with such reverence one might believe they  _ were _ the gods that the Dalish claim them to be.”

“What is a god but a man who has chosen the story told of him, twisted by time and good favor?” Solas posited, and Cullen pulled an impressed face, raising his glass in response.

“You make an excellent point. Oh, Maker, I hope that doesn’t happen to me!” He chuckled again, shaking his head and setting his goblet down. “I’d be a horrible legend. A worse hero.”

Solas’ face shuttered down suddenly and Cullen wondered what he’d done wrong, what he’d said, “No, you- you are a better man than most, Commander...Cullen.”

“I highly doubt that. I know my...crimes are not widely publicized due to Josephine’s great influence, but I know what I’ve done. I would not be called hero in books. Legend - perhaps one day, but maybe as a villain.” Cullen snorted, in relatively good humor about it all. 

He had come to grips with his failings well before he’d arrived in Haven. Long talks with Cassandra over too much ale and not enough sleep - when the withdrawals were at their worst, when he was waking from nightmares of not having done  _ anything _ to stand up against Meredith, when he woke from nightmares where what he’d done hadn’t  _ mattered _ \- those late nights with the Seeker had helped him realize he’d gone wrong. His faith in the Maker had been twisted, used against him. On some level he had known what he was doing was immoral, inhumane,  _ wrong _ _._ But he hadn’t questioned a single moment, and now he was left to see the consequences for his actions from a point where nothing could be done to fix the things he had done. Cassandra had told him, time and time again, that just because he had failed in the past did not mean he was set to fail again in the future as long as he was vigilant and careful and remembered what he had already done. He could be trusted, if he was watched and counseled and if he  _ tried . _

“You stand at the Inquisitor’s side, helping to correct the tear in the sky, fight back against Corypheus, and you would call yourself a villain?” Solas cocked his head to one side a little, his face no longer the stoic mask of neutrality, but a genuine, open sort of curiosity. Cullen flushed.

“Not everyone will see this as recompense for my past, and I cannot take that from them. I was  _ cruel _ _._ I tortured men and women on orders that I did not question because I did not want to question them. I  _ killed _ with only the suspicion of illegal magic - innocents are dead because of me,” Cullen explained, a heavy sigh, “I do not deserve forgiveness or honor or any of the current blessings I have in my life - blessings I only have because Ashael does not know what I have done, the extent of my crimes against the people of Thedas.”

Solas blinked, “You think after everything she has seen thus far she cannot fill in the blanks?”

Cullen paused, staring down at the last sip of his wine for a moment, swirling it around the bottom of his goblet absently just to have something to look at that  _ wasn’t _ Solas. Ashael was a smart woman, clever and observant to the point of fault sometimes - under Leliana’s tutelage, how could she not be? Resourceful, strong, independent and resolute in her faith and beliefs. She might not have been Andrastian, but her stalwart convictions and unwavering trust in those around her was on par with the most devout followers of the Maker that Cullen had ever seen.

He hummed softly before draining his glass. He set the goblet on the desk with a quiet clank and wiped his upper lip with his thumb before he spoke again, “You make an excellent point. She does seem to know more than she lets on,” He conceded.

“She is not so naive as to think you perfect, Commander. She understands that all within her circle have faults,” He looked contemplative as he gazed into the bottom of his own goblet, and Cullen didn’t stop himself from staring at -  _ observing _ \- the man before him. He nearly startled when Solas spoke again after the long period of silence, “Ashael is a singular creature of...distinctive taste. I can’t even claim it to be poor taste, or even questionable, despite her interest in me, for it also led her to you.” A glance up through his eyelashes and Cullen’s breath caught in his throat. Did he truly mean to say…?

“I could say the same of you, Solas.” Cullen found himself responding, and internally panicked. Was that too forward? Would he understand what Cullen meant? Would he  _ mind _ _?_ “She cares deeply about everyone, but she does not allow people close without good reason. And she would have you closer to her.”  _ And I would have you closer to me _ _,_ he did not say.

“I understand the two of you share similarities in that regard - not being open to others easily,” Solas commented, the inference that Cullen also wished to know Solas better swept to the side easily with the clarification.

“She tell you that?” Cullen asked, a small smile on his face as he fell back into casual conversation and away from the slightly more emotionally fraught topics.

Solas  _ definitely _ went red at that, and Cullen raised his eyebrows teasingly, “She...may have mentioned it.”

“And when was this?” Cullen asked, chuckling a little, “She’s not the most up front with her observations of others - I imagine it must have been shortly after Haven?”

“Or this afternoon after I caused you distress.” Solas muttered, and clearly it hadn’t been meant for Cullen to hear, but hear he had.

“Ah,” It was the commander’s turn to flush and he busied himself with topping up his goblet from the bottle of wine and offering it to Solas as well, “That’s...not as surprising as it could be, I’ll admit. I take it she was nearby?”

“I believe we had a small audience of two from the library, yes,” Solas confirmed. Cullen swore softly - he would have to talk with Dorian about allowing people privacy when personal matters were concerned. Of all the people to forget that, it was strange that Dorian so frequently did.

“Well, that does explain why she chased after me. I owe her a greater apology than I thought for my behavior afterwards.” Cullen mused, shaking his head and taking a sip of his wine.

“What do you mean?” Solas asked, again redirecting them to a new topic. At this rate the two would never discuss anything of importance.

Which, perhaps wasn’t the worst outcome of all of this.  _ He could have said no _ , Cullen thought wryly to himself as he responded, “I was... unkind when confronted with her concern for my wellbeing. I had wished to be alone, and when that was interrupted I lashed out.”

“You were...greatly upset by earlier, then?” Solas had the grace to look contrite about the situation.

“I...perhaps overreacted.” Cullen admitted, “But yes, I had...I had hoped this would be the outcome of the conversation with you, if nothing else. And when you responded I thought perhaps not only had I misread several interactions between us, but also that I had offended you or stepped over some boundary. Plodded over it like a druffalo on a mission perhaps is more apt…” He chuckled into his glass.

“You had hoped for only this? For me to join you in your office for drinks and food and stories?” Cullen’s brow wrinkled as he glanced back up at Solas. This was starting to feel more like an interrogation than a conversation.

“I dare not hope for more,” Cullen admitted, “You are...a singular person, Solas, at once in the middle of everything and solitary from it all. You play chess with Bull, you discuss magical theory and methods with Sahrena, Lady Vivienne and Dorian, as well as history and politics - elvhen and otherwise - with everyone. You drink with the group in the tavern from time to time, but you are rarely alone with any one person aside from Ashael herself. I had no wish to disturb your evening but if I could be added to it…” Cullen shrugged, the wine having made his tongue loose without giving him a care that he was sharing possibly too much, “Well, again. I dare not hope for more. It is enough that you thought my company worth your time.”

Solas seemed surprised, enough that he didn’t try to hide the look behind a more neutral façade, “I...am not sure what to say.”

Cullen shook his head with a soft smile, tearing his gaze away from Solas and back down to the wood grain of his desk. He traced a line with his fingernail, “You needn’t say anything. You’ve told me a great tale, brought me wine and food, and saved me from a night of glaring at paperwork until I decided I’d suffered enough and was allowed to go to bed. This was enough, Solas. Thank you.”

Solas was shaking his head even before Cullen finished and he looked...angry? “I...this was...this was a mistake.”

Cullen’s heart sank and his stomach dropped to his ankles in a sickly sort of way, “I understand. Please, allow me to-” He pushed himself to standing, the room swaying a bit from the wine and the warmth of the brazier. 

“That is not what I-” Solas interrupted both Cullen and himself in turn, clenching one fist by his side and the other sliding over his shaved head smoothly as if he were carding fingers through his non-existent hair. He was also standing now, having rose to his feet before Cullen could.

Cullen stepped around the desk and towards Solas, more in the direction of the door but it wasn’t entirely Cullen’s fault that the elf was in the same general area Cullen needed to get to in order to properly escort his guest out, “It’s quite alright, Solas. I’m...disappointed but I have suffered worse, and you are under no obligation to provide me with anything you do not wish to-”

A rush of movement and Cullen found himself backed against his own desk, Solas pressed bodily up against him, a solid point of contact from hip to chest and then a second one where Solas’ mouth sealed over Cullen’s own. Half a beat for Cullen to recognize that he was being kissed - forcefully and  _ well _ \- as he grunted in startle, then hummed in pleasure as he realized that this man, with all his confusing messages and signals, was  _ kissing _ him. Had chosen to kiss him, apparently  _ wanted _ to do so. Cullen wasn’t going to say  _ no _ _,_ he wasn’t an  _ idiot . _

He kissed back, aiming to slow the assault on his lips, his hands coming up to Solas’ hips to rest there - just resting, not holding or pushing or pulling or grabbing or anything Cullen may have wanted to do. Solas had one hand on Cullen’s shoulder and his other resting at Cullen’s own waist. Full lips against his own relatively thin ones, a lap of tongue against his scar and Cullen inhaled sharply through his nose before pulling back slowly, gently easing out of the kiss.

“I...not that I mind, certainly but are you sure?” Cullen asked Solas, his voice whisper-soft between them in the dim light of the office, dark and warm and not unlike the kiss he’d just been on the receiving end of himself. He licked his own lips absently, hooded eyes glancing between Solas’ and his lips - the taste of wine was heavy on his tongue and was chased by the distinct flavor Cullen realized was Solas’ own.

“Not even a little,” Solas muttered, almost wryly, “but I am not in the habit of making good decisions these days.” He leaned in again and Cullen  _ wanted _ to let him in again.

He pulled back as much as he was able, to a disgruntled noise of protest from Solas when Cullen’s lips weren’t where he’d anticipated, “Perhaps it would be best if we were to wait until we were not a bottle of wine in to continue this?” This was the  _ worst _ decision Cullen had ever made, he thought ruefully to himself. He not only had gotten exactly what he’d hoped for earlier, but even more than that and also the promise of it continuing further but…the phrasing Solas had used bothered Cullen.

“I assure you I am in complete control of my faculties, Commander.” Solas chided, his voice stern and Cullen chuckled.

“Solas, we’ve kissed. I think you’re allowed to call me Cullen,” He began. Continuing, “And I will not have you regret this decision come morning. I think that would be...worse.”

No, what was worse was that right now he was denying himself what he wanted and it  _ hurt _ _._ Though, that may well have been Solas’ insistence that it was a bad decision, a mistake, to follow through with what they’d already done thus far. Cullen wouldn’t force someone to do something they did not want - or were not sure of.

“My regrets in life are many, Cullen, but not a single one I hold onto has ever been about kissing someone,” Solas countered, almost scoffing, “I do not regret kissing Ashael, or the time I spend with her - though that is also almost assuredly a mistake on my part - and I will not regret spending time with or kissing you.”

Cullen couldn’t fault his logic but that might have been the wine, “Still I think...I think we have had too much wine for us to continue further. Though I do not wish to stop,” He added with a groan as Solas pressed forward again and Cullen had to tip his head away. He thanked the Maker he was built taller than the elf to give him the extra space needed to do so. Instead of kissing his lips, Solas changed course like a ship avoiding a storm and his lips landed on the tendon of Cullen’s neck.

“Then let us not stop, Cullen,” Solas murmured against the warm skin beneath his lips and Cullen decided maybe he could make one, very small, bad decision for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand teh smutz.
> 
> fun fact, I can hear all the character's voices when I write their dialog. Also fun fact: this is not helpful when writing porn!
> 
> Forgot to mention at the beginning of the first chapter but all text within the « and » is Elvhen

As soon as Cullen relaxed against the desk and into Solas’ hold, Solas smiled into the man’s neck, scraping his teeth gently against the edge of stubble and the rapid pulse in Cullen’s neck. Cullen let out a startled groan, his hands finally gripping tightly on Solas’ hips, the fabric of Solas’ tunic rucking up in the man’s fingers.

“I- this is-” Cullen breathed, clearly wanting to say something but not quite able to get the words out. Once more the man pulled away and Solas snarled a little in frustration. What was the problem _now?_ Had he not assured the man that he was wanted? That this, while certainly a miscalculation on Solas’ part, was not unwanted by the elf?

As soon as Cullen had pulled back he surged back in, capturing Solas’ mouth with his own. Solas grunted, pleased that he would not have to explain to the man further that this was, in fact, what Solas wanted as well. It was rash, impulsive, _entirely a bad move,_ but Solas was tired of denying himself when it was possible the world might end and his entire purpose would be dashed to pieces on the ground.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ashael and Sahrena to defeat their enemy, that he doubted their capabilities. Sahrena was adept at wielding the Anchor in a way Solas would not have anticipated from a Dalish witch, and Ashael commanded the Inquisition like she was born into the position, her knowledge of the intricacies of court and politics rivaling that of any of Solas’ own contemporaries, or even Ashael’s. In fact it was almost uncanny how aware she was of the goings on in the political world around them as they fought to protect the people of Thedas from the threat _literally_ looming overhead. But it was clear even to Solas that it was highly unlikely they would come out of this unscathed, even if they were to win.

And he would do his best to help them defeat Corypheus. He would regain his orb, his power, and he would work to tear down the Veil and rebuild the world as it once was. Then he could stop denying himself the things he wished for most in the world - love, affection, peace.

In the meantime, he would take what he was offered - companionship, whirlwind romance, a bit of a snog at the Commander’s desk, whatever was available.

“Shh,” He breathed, carding his fingers through Cullen’s hair as the man let out a soft moan when they parted once more, “I am still here. I will not leave you.”

Not tonight, anyway.

“Solas, I- We should…” Solas inwardly groaned as Cullen pressed soft kisses on his cheekbones, Solas pressing several of his own along the commander’s jawline in an attempt to find his lips once more and silence the man. Another protest against the proceedings? This was becoming tiresome and his patience wore thin, “We should go upstairs.”

He grinned wolfishly - Mythal would have laughed - and let his teeth drag slowly across the curve of Cullen’s jaw, “Should we, Cullen? Are you not comfortable here?”

“I would be more-” He broke to whine as Solas latched onto the lobe of his ear, Cullen’s hands finally rising to cradle Solas’ head to his neck, “More comfortable in the bed, wouldn’t you?”

Solas hummed, a final nip to Cullen’s ear making his breath stutter as he ran his hands firmly over Cullen’s sides through his doublet, “Perhaps, though I don’t know that I could let you go that long.”

_“Maker,_ you’ll kill me,” Cullen cursed his palms covering Solas’ cheeks to bring their faces together once more in a burning kiss. His fingers trailed lightly over the long stretch of Solas’ ears from point to lobe, more absently than anything and Solas shuddered, heat blooming in his stomach and loins as his hips shuddered forward.

“I don’t know that you’ll be the only one dead at the end of this,” Solas murmured, fingers digging into Cullen’s sides, “Did you learn that technique from Ashael, then?”

“Technique?” He sounded genuinely confused and Solas believed for a moment that he truly did not know.

“Ears.”

“I...they are sensitive?” Cullen trailed his fingers back up and then down again, more deliberately this time and Solas shuddered, falling forward into Cullen’s shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled, his voice thick and dark with the same arousal that coursed through Solas’ veins. 

“Perhaps I see your cruelty now, Commander,” Solas breathed when the taller man refused to stop touching his ears.

“Hmm, I could be far crueler,” There was an edge to the commander’s voice and Solas’s breath caught in his throat, though the fingers on his ears did stop and he took the opportunity to return to biting kisses into the taller man’s neck rather than catch his breath. There had been a spot where his teeth had scraped earlier that caused the man to shudder and…

“Ah, S-Solas!” There it was. A toothy grin before he continued attacking the patch of skin that reddened under his attentions. A mark, one that would likely fade by morning - possibly as late as noon - but a mark nonetheless, left on the commander’s neck. He latched his teeth around the flesh, a proper bite though he did not break the skin, and suckled lightly, interspersing the action with licks to soothe. “F- _ fuck .” _

Solas pulled away to admire his handiwork - perhaps the mark would stay longer than midday now as it slowly darkened with blood flowing to the surface of the skin, a bruise staking Solas’ claim on the commander for even as short a time as it would take for it to fade.

_ “ Maker _ _,_ I need you to...Come  _ here _ _,”_ Cullen growled, manhandling Solas’ face to his own once more and these kisses were warmer, sharper, brighter than before. Solas could not suppress the groan that rolled out of his chest as Cullen veritably claimed his mouth. Not to say Solas did not give as good as he got, pressing the taller man back against the desk until it scooted noisily across the floor. They broke apart with a mutual, breathless, chuckle and Cullen growled again, swiping first his right arm and then his left arm out to push everything off of the desk and then hoisting himself up onto it, dragging Solas to stand between his open knees.

Solas  _ very _ much appreciated the change, his hands gliding from Cullen’s ribs, to his stomach, down his hips, and along his flanks until he was kneading the flesh of the commander’s thighs under his palms, their lips once more locked together. Cullen was making delightfully breathless, wanting sounds, grunts and groans and moans of encouragement that fanned the flames of Solas’ ardour higher and higher. It took a moment for Solas to realize some of the sounds  _ weren’t _ Cullen, but were in fact  _ himself . _

Solas pressed his hand to Cullen’s shoulder and pushed him backwards onto the desk before he hopped up, his knees catching the lip of the desk as he pulled himself over top of Cullen. The man was  _ breathtaking _ beneath him, golden hair and skin and eyes glowing in the dim firelight, he could have been a magical illusion for the way light struck his form and reflected off. 

He could have this, Solas found himself thinking, he could have this man, he could have Ashael as well, he could keep them and leave the Veil, leave his plans behind, let them both save the world and then just _stay,_ between them preferably but any configuration would be fine. Could lay the commander of the Inquisition beneath him night after night, could hold Ashael and let her hands soothe his wounds - mental and physical - could watch them together. Oh, the picture they would paint, their golden colors surrounded by the reds they both favored to set off their complexions. Solas could have this.

Solas’ knees bracketed Cullen’s hips and he drew his palm up from Cullen’s hip, pushing his shirt up and up and up, revealing slightly paler skin beneath the cloth though it still held that golden hue to it. He gazed down, at the man who looked back up at him nearly reverently - suddenly Solas understood the draw to be seen as a god, to feel those eyes upon him day after day, worshiping him as he worshiped the man beneath him. He drew in a sharp breath, settling firmly onto Cullen’s thighs as he admired the warrior’s physique.

He could have this.

He could let himself have this - if just for tonight.

He fell forward, his face once more in Cullen’s neck, once more at that spot where he had left his mark, now starting to purple and he nipped at it before continuing upwards with smaller, chaster kisses to the man’s jaw, his cheek, his brow, his forehead. Solas carded his hands through the riot of curls breaking free from their regimented style held by pomade to be less chaotic, but Solas always had enjoyed a bit of chaos.

“You should leave your hair undone more often,” He murmured, gazing down into Cullen’s eyes. Cullen’s pupils were blown wide and dark and his golden-brown eyes were sparkling in the firelight. His cheeks were flushed, though whether from Solas’ statement or from their activities it was hard to tell. 

“I shall...take that into consideration,” Cullen’s voice was rough, raspy, as he spoke, a smile pulled at his lips, both sides, though the scar hindered upward movement on the right of his face. Cullen pulled his hands down Solas’ sides before grabbing the bottom of his tunic and rucking it upwards. Solas sat up to allow the shirt to come off, laying it to the side as he perched once more on Cullen’s lap. Cullen shifted a little, drawing his own top all the way off from where Solas had bunched it up under his arms. 

Divested of his shirt, Cullen scooted back further onto the desk, sitting up again before pulling Solas closer to him, pressing their now bared chests to one another as Solas settled back down from kneeling above the taller man. “How do you…” Cullen began, between searing kisses, “want to do this?”

What a strange question, Solas thought, pulling himself out of the moment with it. He leaned back and looked again at Cullen, the light now coming more from behind him, shadows darkening the luminous golden of his features. He brought a hand up, fingers and palms calloused from wielding a staff, and cupped the back of Cullen’s neck with it. How did he want to do this? They were already upon the desk, shirtless and breathing hard, Solas’ mark etched into Cullen’s neck and darkening as bruises do. Solas was not a stranger to the carnal arts, and had dallied much in his youth, and on, right up until the end of things, when Mythal had died, when he was left to figure out their revolution on his own, when he brought down the Veil and shattered his world in twain. 

How did he want to do this? Certainly he could have this man, but for how long before he was taken from Solas? Before Solas had to pull away further, to leave the Inquisition behind? Before he tore the world asunder in order to put it back together again?

“Solas?” Cullen’s voice was soft, deep, concerned and two large, rough palms rubbed Solas’ back, on either side of his spine.

He could have this. But for how long? And how did he want it? What was it that was truly on offer here? Tonight? Forever? Solas doubted the man would give him that long. Until the end? Which end?

He would have to give it all up to remove the Veil - and that was assuming they all survived Corypheus. And if he couldn’t bear the thought of losing them to even the corrupted magister...how could he force himself to do it on his own? He would be alone _again._ He wasn’t sure he could do that.

“Solas, come back to me,” Cullen was saying, one hand now firmly on Solas’ lower back, the other cupping his cheek and jaw, “Where did you go? Have I done something wrong?”

Oh this _child_ of a man, he could never know the hardships Solas had been through. And he thought that it was something he had done to cause Solas to disappear into his own head.

“No, no Cullen, you have done nothing wrong,” Solas murmured, coming back to himself, “Merely a shan’ishan getting lost in his head.” He pulled himself forward using the hold he had on Cullen’s neck to kiss Cullen once more, “I am here again, siu’rhan.”

Cullen groaned low, “Are you sure? We can...we can stop if you-” 

Solas dragged his lips across Cullen’s cheek to his ear, nipping it again, “«There is no need for that, Cullen. I am here and we can have tonight,»” Solas murmured.

“That’s...that’s entirely unfair and I think you know it.” Cullen’s voice held just the edge of a whine, his hips jerking upwards. Solas hummed, an amused sound as he dragged his hands across the vast expanse of Cullen’s torso. The warrior was solid, though several months of more administrative work made him softer at the edges, rounded though he still was frequently in the sparring ring against the other warriors of the inner circle.

“What is unfair, dear Cullen?” Solas teased, his hands coming to rest at Cullen’s hips once more.

Cullen, in retaliation, turned his head to the side and dragged his lips and stubbled cheek across the length of Solas’ ear, causing the elf to shudder and tip forward. The words whispered roughly into it, mouthing wetly at the long lines and sharp curves, made him gasp, “You, speaking elven at me. Did Ashael tell you that as well?” Solas let out a breathy laugh as his words were gently lobbed back at him.

“Dira’un, emma’vheraan,” He groaned, “No, vheraan, though it is...exciting you have told me so.”

Cullen shivered as Solas tried to catch his breath as he spoke. Somewhere along the line sitting on Cullen’s lap had turned to their rutting against one another, neither really having enough leverage to do much more than tease but both being unwilling to stop and readjust for better traction. 

“Exciting, hm?” Cullen panted, his own grip finding purchase on Solas’ backside, pulling him in closer, though they were already as close as they could be, “How so?”

“«Knowing I can tease you with but a few words whispered in your ear? No matter how benign the sentence? That is a lot of power to hold, Cullen.»” Solas murmured, shuddering as Cullen swore breathily in his ear, holding him tighter than before.

_“Maker,_ you _are_ going to kill me. I shall die in flames right here on this desk,” Cullen muttered, tucking his head into Solas’ neck and as his teeth latched onto the juncture between shoulder and neck Solas cried out softly. “They shall have to sift through my ashes come morning but oh what a glorious pyre to die upon.”

“I would not let you burn so hot,” Solas gasped, “I would not let that happen.”

Cullen groaned, rocking up more solidly, somehow having found the right combination of position between the two of them and leverage on the desk to - or perhaps he had just brought Solas down more firmly upon his lap and Solas was in no way able to catalog that, “I already burn that hot, Solas. You are like _fire_ in my veins.”

_ No, _ Solas thought,  _ That is the lyrium, alight in your blood because of my magic. _ He did not say this, however. In fact, he did not say anything, just let Cullen bring him down and down again, heat and friction causing pleasure to sparkle up Solas’ spine like so much lightning. A spark of it trembled in his fingertips and he once more captured Cullen’s mouth - the act more of an open-mouthed biting of lips than a true kiss. The commander gasped surging upwards once more, shifting off balance and throwing one hand behind himself to catch on the desk so he might better rut against Solas as warmth spread on the inside of his trousers. Solas groaned, his electrified fingers dancing down Cullen’s arms as he curled around himself, hips jerking against Cullen’s ruined breeches, spend filling his own braies.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ Solas I-” Cullen muttered, catching Solas in softer, sweeter, wetter kisses than before, “I am...That was-”   


“Shh, emma’vheraan,” Solas quieted the man gently, trembling in the aftershock of his orgasm. “Shh.”

He carded his fingers through Cullen’s hair once more as they shook together, breaths slowing. Eventually Cullen cleared his throat with a soft laugh, “I...really had hoped we might make it to the bed, first.”

Solas laughed as well, a breathless chuckle, “I hope the alternative was not too unpleasant?”

“Not at all,” And his voice was too earnest, as Solas glanced up so was his face, Cullen’s open, contented expression soft in the firelight and it caused a tightness in Solas’ chest.

He couldn’t have this. Not really. He might be able to pretend for a night, for a moment, but it would never truly be his.

Cullen was not his vheraan. Ashael not his avise. Neither of them his heart - no matter how much he wished for it to be so.  _ No matter how much it _ was  _ so. _

“Solas?”

“I am here, emma’vheraan.” Solas hoped the small smile looked easy on his face as he gently fell forward, his forehead resting on Cullen’s shoulder, “I have...not been with anyone in quite some time. It was…”

“Yeah, more exhausting than I remember it ever being every time,” Cullen chuckled, his arms coming around Solas, blocking the chill of the air that managed to sneak in around the doors, “We should...probably move.” He hummed, though he made no move to do so.

“Do you regularly receive visitors at this late hour?” Solas teased.

“None I wouldn’t mind seeing us like this, but I figured you might not wish to…” He trailed off, going quiet for a long moment.

“Cullen?”

“Sorry, I…” He kissed the side of Solas’ head before Solas pulled himself back upright, “Got stuck in a thought.” He shifted, grimacing slightly, “Ah...perhaps we should move if only because I think if we let ourselves sit too long my underthings will become stuck to me permanently.”

Solas laughed, a proper one, and it echoed in the tower. “You may be right. Come, let’s clean up.”

He shimmied off the desk and offered his hand to Cullen to assist him sliding off as well. As he went to disentangle their hands from one another and gather his shirt, Cullen gripped him tighter, his other hand coming to rest on Solas’ wrist.

“Would you...would you stay? With me tonight?”

Golden eyes, golden skin, golden hair, glittered in the brazier fire and Solas’ breath caught at the beauty once more. He shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fine Elvhen translations, direct from [Project Elvhen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true):
> 
> ma’lathelan lath’in: my lover's heart - elvhen for metamour that i made up cause it's not in the dictionary and fuck you i do what i want  
> shan’ishan: old man  
> siu’rhan: sweet thing  
> Dira’un, emma’vheraan: Touché, my lion (dira'un is "A touch")  
> Avise: flame


End file.
